


only the beginning (of a lifetime of irritation)

by pieandsouffle



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, I suppose, Pranks, Sibling Bonding, The Golden Years, attempted humour, i think i failed, idk what else, they've lived in narnia for 6 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandsouffle/pseuds/pieandsouffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy and Edmund can occasionally be the most unbearable little shits. Fortunately, even through the pain the two eldest siblings have to deal with, they're somewhat used to it. But still, a proposal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	only the beginning (of a lifetime of irritation)

**Author's Note:**

> -__- How low have I sunk to actually write fanfiction about Narnia, of all things?? (I lie, I should at least write something for my oldest fandom). At least this is somewhat innocent. 
> 
> My most sincere apologies, anyhow.

“Ed… we oughtn’t!”

Edmund replied with a spreading grin, encompassing his face and reddening his cheeks. Lucy glanced around them, quickly, worriedly, but with enthusiasm she could not deny or even pretend to hide.

It wasn’t the first time her brother had suggested something like this; in fact, the last time he had, and many more times before that, she had gone along with it too. But she had to grasp at some sort of propriety; even though the mere thought of partaking in this particular hilarious misdeed against her eldest brother had her nearly in stitches.

“Peter will be furious!”

“Pete can handle it. And anyway, he could handle a break from all that work from his lot,” Edmund argued with a wide gesture, his goblet nearly spilling wine across the tiles lining the halls of the castle. ‘His lot’ referring to the numerous workers under the High King’s command, delivering all sorts of nuisances to him, mostly including nasty bills and papers that needed to be viewed by a ruler of Cair Paravel. Knowing Peter had no patient for that type of thing, Ed more often than not volunteered to sort through and sign them, and Peter would inevitably refuse, declaring that any High King handing off his work to a lesser was unworthy behaviour for someone of his illustrious position. However, even despite his protests, that sort of thing inevitably ended up on Edmund’s desk without any kind of proper explanation, but for a sheepish smile from Peter, and slightly exasperated look from Edmund.

“I think you meant that _you_ could do with a break from all that work from his lot,” Lucy corrected, daring him to protest her claim. Her youngest elder brother merely shrugged, a faintly guilty expression coming across his face, but it was pushed out by humour.

“Guilty,” he agreed, his mouth quirking up at the corner. “But think of the _entertainment value_ , dear sister. It will be the talk of Cair Paravel for weeks!”

“What an abominable example of exaggeration,” Lucy countered, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Edmund was usually so overworked, serious more often than not as a result, but there were always those wonderful days when he pushed back against his workload and reclaimed the good humour he had been forced to hide when he first came of age as a Narnian king. It had been simply _years_ since they had played a proper sort of prank on Peter or Susan, and even so, back then it had always been something akin to ‘accidentally’ pouring a goblet of mud on one of the eldest’s robes, or ‘misplacing’ Rhindon or the like. There had never been any sort of proper strategy or planning to such misdeeds, as children they didn’t understand the complexities of pulling off a truly excellent prank.

“Well, maybe not weeks,” Edmund relented. “Perhaps Mr Tumnus might briefly mention it tomorrow, but such a lark may well be forgotten in the distant future.” Here he interjected with a heavy feigned sigh. “Our legacy, Lu, turned to dust and blown away in the winds of – I don’t know, Archenland perhaps.”

“You’re being awfully dramatic,” said Lucy. “Of course it won’t be forgotten. It _is_ our legacy, as you said. His Highness the High King Peter the Magnificent, Châtelain of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands, the victor of battles against the Northern Giants and hero of Narnia. Her Majesty the High Queen Susan the Gentle, the most beautiful woman to grace the hillsides of Narnia, and defender of peace in this land. And then there’s Edmund the Just and Lucy the Valiant, two unbearable little beasts who tried to give their hardworking brother a heart attack over paperwork.”

Edmund snorted in a very ungainly fashion, and inhaled his wine as a result. Lucy pounded at his back.

“You – “ he continued to interject his sentence with coughs, even after he waved Lucy away, and then dodged out of her reach when she refused to stop, “ – misjudge my motivations, sister.”

“Well, you want to give Peter an awful fright, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Ed fumbled to put his goblet down, racked with coughs.

“Well, now we just have to invent a plausible and particularly horrid thing to write down.”

“Goodness Lu, that could _anything_.”

Lucy grabbed her brother by the elbow, and he allowed her to drag him over to a comfortable seat, push him down into it, and then take over the one opposite him, absentmindedly pushing Susan’s book off the cushion and onto the floor. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her knees up under her until she was well and truly squashed – but comfortably so – into the compact space of Susan’s favourite reading chair.

“Now,” began Lucy, “we must plan. If we want to give Peter a scare, we ought to be clever about it. It wouldn’t do to give him a proper fright over something very serious and hard to combat, which would be rather cruel of us. We only want to surprise him, after all, not traumatise him.”

“Something that could quite easily happen, would be somewhat easy to deal with, but would still come as quite a shock,” Edmund agreed. “So clearly nothing about impending wars or any deaths.”

Lucy shuddered. “That would be horrid. But what else is there?”

Edmund’s brow furrowed. “How about,” he began slowly, “that awful Lord of Calormen… the Tisroc, I think, inviting himself over for negotiations? Pete can’t stand him.” It was amusing to imagine Peter paling as he read the message, grimacing, and then steeling himself.

“Not quite funny enough,” Lucy decided. She pleated the hem of her gown thoughtfully, trying to think. There were so many options, but none seemed to be coming to mind, to her great dismay.

“’Some noble, etc, to the High King Peter blah blah,’” Edmund began. “’Requests permission from His Illustrious Highness to court the Queen Lucy, radiant in both face and valour’, or some rot of the like.”

Lucy giggled. “Ed, I’m barely fourteen.”

“Which ought to make the shock of such a request even greater! Especially if your suitor is older than all four of us put together.”

“Or already married,” replied Lucy thoughtfully, remembering an occasion not long after Susan had become of age, when an ambassador of the Lone Islands and his wife had visited Cair Paravel for negotiations. The man had not even had the grace to court Susan when his wife was out of the room. Needless to say, the ambassador had soon found himself lacking both a wife and the respect of Narnia’s royalty.

“A lord of sixty years and two wives as of this day,” suggested Edmund. “Who drinks like Bacchus himself, eats like a wild boar, and interjects inappropriate comments into otherwise pleasant conversation.”

“So clearly Lord Stiny is our answer.”

Edmund made a noise similar to a wild animal being impaled and doubled over, choking and snorting on rather animal-like laughter. When he finished, and Lucy herself had taken several deep breaths and managed to prevent any further giggles from slipping out, they decided it was well and truly time to write out this monstrosity.

 

***

 

Queen Susan normally quite enjoyed evening meals as a rule, but the ever more frequent letters and messages delivered to King Peter did not allow them much free-time, even for something as necessary as eating. This meant that her brother was often required to bring his work to the dining hall, but he would try to improve the affair by reading them aloud and allowing the others to interject upon them. And on this particular evening, Peter seemed to only have three or four to read. Despite the distinct lack of work to be done at this meal, Susan was not enjoying that evening.

Edmund and Lucy were both acting peculiarly, not as talkative as they were normally, and very pink-cheeked. When Susan politely asked what they had amused themselves with today after finishing their various tasks, their only response was giggling and a wave of their hands.

     “’ _To High King Peter the Magnificent of Narnia, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription and by conquest, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Greetings from Lord Stiny the Fourth, Son of Stiny the Third, By Noble Blood and Ruler of the Archenland Province of Watersblood – ‘_ Oh goodness,” said Peter, “whatever kind of rubbish is Stiny requesting of us now? Surely he can bother King Lune about it, instead of requesting aid from us.”

Susan paused, her spoon of soup hovering between the bowl and her lips, eyes narrowing on her youngest siblings, who had seemed to suddenly become very interested in their lentils. Which was odd, considering neither had ever been partial to them, and they were now both drinking their soup as quickly as possible.

“I wouldn’t know,” Susan replied to her brother stiffly, and Lucy covered her mouth, her shoulders uncontrollably shaking. Peter didn’t seem to notice.

“He has manners, at the very least,” Edmund said hurriedly, choking down more broth.

“That he does,” Peter said with some suspicion, focussed almost entirely on the letter. “But what in Narnia does he want?”

“Finances, more likely than not,” Susan offered. “I shouldn’t worry all too much about it. I’m certain it’s nothing we can’t manage.”

“Hm.”

     “’ _Recalling Your Majesty’s most illustrious companions, I bid thee and thy eminent siblings, High Queen Susan of grace and virtue, King Edmund of the Western Wastes, and Queen Lucy the Valiant and most radiant, to be in the very best of health Your worshipful Highnesses may be in.’”_

“Rot,” interrupted Edmund. “Bootlicking rot.”

“Do shut up, drink your soup, and let me read, Ed,” Peter ordered. “It’s called respect, and is expected of those of our status.”

Edmund’s eyebrows waggled at Lucy over the soup. Susan glared at them again.

 _“’I also wish for most bountiful harvests across Your well-loved Kingdom, and for peace and prosperity to rain down upon Your rule like stars falling from the Heavens, and – ‘_ Well, maybe this _is_ becoming excessive bootlicking,” admitted Peter. “Perhaps you’re right, Ed.”

“When talking to you, I always am.”

This earned Edmund a rather hard look from his brother, and an even stonier one from his elder sister.

 _“’- that Your Grace will do me the great privilege and honour of listening to my Heart’s Desire.’”_ Peter groaned. “Oh, by the grace of _Aslan_. What does he _want?_ ”

“Perhaps he’ll say in the next paragraph,” Susan suggested.

“Or maybe the one after that,” Lucy added. “Or perhaps another one after that. Of course, his request mightn’t even _be_ in that letter, just flattery, and he has completely forgotten the point of such a finely written letter.”

Edmund swallowed. “Clearly it’s something that King Lune nor Archenland will be able to aid him with,” he said carefully. “Especially if he comes directly to appeal to you.”

Peter’s gaze became long-suffering. “Well, I quite wish he wouldn’t.” And he resumed his reading of the letter.

_“’I hope that Your most reputed Majesty would be most pleased to hear of the prosperous – ‘”_

“No, I don’t care. Next paragraph.”

Lucy pouted at Edmund for some unknown reason.

 _“’During my last consultation with Your most noble Highness, and my fondly-remembered visitation in the most resplendent Cair Paravel in Your beauteous and righteous country and kingdom of Narnia, I was most joyfully subjected to an outing with the most splendorous Queen Lucy of the Eastern Seas in regards to –_ ‘”

“I do wish he’d stop going on with this ridiculous flattery,” Edmund tried, but Peter waved him into silence, a furrow growing on his brow. For the first time since opening the long-winded message, his pained expression resembled that more of concern than irritation. Edmund winked at Lucy, and downed a few more mouthfuls of soup.

Peter’s eyes darted down the paper rapidly. His face paled, and when he reached the end he started chewing on his lip.

Edmund was no longer even trying to interrupt. Lucy sat there silently, having stopped tearing a slice of bread in two when she was only half-way through. Susan felt something warm drip onto her lap, which she distantly recognised to be the soup from her near-untouched spoon. She carefully placed it back in the bowl and leaned towards her brother, who looked to be considering once again taking up his old habit of biting his fingernails in stressful times.

“Peter,” she said calmly and clearly. “What does Stiny want?”

Peter’s face darkened, and he continued bitterly, _“’This journey made me aware of the enchanting beauty of Your most elegant younger sister, radiant in both face and valour, and the most effulgent nature by which she blesses Your Kingdom and Country. I thereby humbly beg Your most exalted Highness bestow my request to make the scintillating Queen Lucy the Valiant my bride.’”_

Susan gasped. Lucy made a sound somewhere between a squawk and a small shriek. And Edmund remained silent.

“And then it’s all rubbish trying to butter me up,” Peter continued furiously, a red flash in his eyes, “so that I’ll – Lu? Are you quite all right?”

Lucy was turning rather red in the face, but in the way that her siblings recognised to be amusement. If, of course, Susan and Peter hadn’t been quite so worried over the letter.

“Lucy, you needn’t worry. We won’t allow him to marry you. In fact, such an _impetuous_ request from Stiny will only make us – “ At this, he unfurled the last curl of the letter, but did not look at the name – or rather, _names_ – that followed the object of his distress.

At this, Edmund’s shoulders began shaking as he slowly raised his soup spoon, and Lucy found she simply couldn’t keep her laughter locked away. It exploded from her like a waterfall, a kind of cackle that wasn’t becoming of anyone, even the oldest hag in Narnia.

Edmund, who had unfortunately taken that sip of soup, sprayed it across the table as he joined in. Susan gave a small scream as it ruined her bodice, and Peter merely stared, bewildered.

“Why are you two _laughing_ – “ the High King started, before a horrible look of realisation came over his face as he read the names at the bottom of the letter.

_Signed with the greatest love, affection, and joy at causing such distress,_

_Edmund the Just and Lucy Valiant_

“You little _\- !”_ Peter snarled, lunging for Edmund who promptly fell out of his chair and scrambled backwards, laughing all the way. Lucy dove for Edmund’s arm, pulling him out of Peter’s furious reach.

“I think,” she panted, grin spreading across her face, “that we’ll be off to our apartments now,” and dragged Edmund off too, both positively howling.

The dining hall was now silent. At some point, Lucy’s bowl must have fallen to the floor, as a pool of soup was slowly spreading across the floor.

Susan gently plucked the letter from Peter’s loose grasp, and read it quickly and without interruption.

“In their defence," said Susan, "it’s very well written."

Peter just scowled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh that is exactly the kind of thing I'd do to my sister, but she's a bit too smart to ever fall for something like that. Peter, sadly, is probably the kind of person to take everything seriously, yet still be quite naive.
> 
> BTW, Lucy is 14, Edmund is 16, Susan and Peter are 18 and 19 respectively.
> 
> And 90% of adjectives used were found in a thesaurus, under either 'radiant' or 'illustrious'. Because I'm original like that.


End file.
